Every now and then you’ll encounter an idea so simple, yet so brilliant, that you’ll suck in your breath and think, “Wow! I wish I had thought of that!” And when such a bright idea concerns breakfast, it’s hard to see how things could get any better than that.
So say hello to SuperChefs Breakfast, and a big tip of the old fedora to innovators Darnell Ferguson and Ryan Bryson, who came up with a creative way to jump from an award-winning culinary-school career to running their own restaurant, without all the capital expenses and costs and deal-making that such an entrepreneurial effort usually requires. Continue reading SuperChefs Builds Memorable Breakfast→
I rolled north along Frankfort Avenue, on through Butchertown and down the hill toward the river, getting ready to hang a left on … hey! What fresh hell is this? I know I haven’t been around here for a while, but nothing looks right.
“Siri? Siri! Where am I?”
My iPhone’s robotic voice responded: “You are on River Road.”
“I don’t think so. This doesn’t look like River Road to me! It’s got four lanes, and it’s in the wrong place. So many new things! Strip malls! The front of an old house! And where is the Stop Lite?”
“I found 12 places matching ‘The Stop’ fairly close to you.”
“Never mind! Forget it! Just take me to Relish restaurant!”
“Sorry, Robin, I can’t do that. You’re not listening to the music app.”
“Aaagggh!”
Churrasco Steak at Relish. LEO photo by Ron Jasin.This wasn’t working out. So I put Siri back in my pocket and, adjusting to the radically renovated landscape of inner River Road, found my way soon enough to Relish, just down the road from the Big Four Bridge. Relish shares space in a short new strip mall with the reincarnated Stop Lite Liquors, which looks a lot more classy than its predecessor but, sadly, has lost its iconic traffic light.
“They didn’t want it,” the Stop Lite clerk said, cocking one eye toward the ceiling in the direction, I assume, of building management. This is a real loss. If the old Stop Lite’s flashing red, yellow and green beacon was still around, I wouldn’t have had to summon Siri in the first place. Perhaps we should start a Facebook movement to Restore The Historic Stop Lite?
Relish, however, needs no beacon. Word of mouth alone surrounded this new spot with a trendy buzz since it opened right after Thanksgiving. It’s hard to imagine how it could have done otherwise. It represents the re-entry into the Louisville dining scene of Susan Seiller, who owned and put her stamp on the popular Jack Fry’s restaurant from 1987 until 2008.
Seiller, who also ran the short-lived but much-loved Paloma on Brownsboro Road in the early ’90s before turning it over to Azalea, has brought the style that informed Fry’s and Paloma to infuse what could have been a bland shopping center space for Relish with cool, techno-industrial decor. Walls are pure white, as are the simple but stylish plastic chairs; tabletops are streaky black. No shortcuts were taken with glasses or silverware, and even the heavy paper napkins feel like cloth.
And that location amid River Road’s new look may prove foresighted, as it’s neatly situated to serve both business diners on lunch break or commuters who choose the River Road option on their way home from work. (Lunch service now ends at 4 p.m.; there’s no table service for dinner, but a prepared-foods deli loaded with delicacies from Chef Jack Beeson stays open until 7 p.m. Relish is also open 11 a.m.-4 p.m. Saturdays and may eventually add dinner hours, our server said, but don’t expect it soon.)
We dropped in before noon on a weekday, a lucky choice, as the place was slammed by midday. Service moved briskly, though, and we were in and out within an hour.
Beeson’s concise menu is affordable (nothing over $10) and focused on appetizing yet healthy fare from ingredients, a table card assures us, “sourced … from purveyors with sustainable practices. Some local. Some not.” I wish the menu named the sources. Was that Capriole goat cheese on the onion tart? I don’t know. The beef in the churrasco steak seemed to have the texture and flavor of grass-fed, but where was it from? This is not critical information, but 21st century foodies like to know these things.
We loaded up on lunch and took more deli dishes home, and I couldn’t find a nit to pick. The churrasco steak ($9) was perfect medium-rare as ordered, thin medallions over a Salvadorean-style arepa (corn cake) filled with grilled jalapeños and finished with spicy sautéed mushrooms and bright-green Argentinean chimichurri.
The onion and goat cheese tart ($7) was simple and flavorful, fine short pastry topped with sliced onions sautéed dark brown and sweet, garnished with mild goat cheese crumbles and plated with a pile of fresh, bitter arugula tossed in a gentle lemon vinaigrette.
Lentil chili ($3 for a cup, $6 for a bowl) was thick, spicy and rib-sticking. White runner bean soup ($3 and $6) was filled with beans the size of limas, bits of tomato and slivers of chard in a consoling beef broth. A side of roasted beet salad ($3) with thin shavings of ricotta salata cheese might tempt the most ardent beet-hater.
A hefty ration of coconut pound cake with caramelized pineapple and a scoop of Häagen-Dazs vanilla ice cream ($7) was really too much for one, or even two, but we finished it all the same.
Lunch for two exceeded the “budget” level but was worth it, with plenty of food but no alcohol still tallying $36.04, plus a $7.50 tip.
As I’ve observed before, the Louisville dining scene has grown remarkably – or, for a food-related metaphor, let’s say it has “mushroomed” – over a generation or so.
Toward the end of the 1970s, growing-up baby boomers hailed the arrival of a squadron of exciting new eateries: the fondly remembered Formally Myra’s, Casa Grisanti and Cafe Metro as well as the still-extant Bristol and Jack Fry’s, and many more.
Right in there among them, The Cheddar Box came along in 1979, beating even the venerable Lotsa Pasta to the local scene by several years. Under the continued leadership of Nancy Tarrant, The Cheddar Box has been delighting us with carry-out and catered fare ever since. Continue reading Cheddar Box Graduates To Sit-Down Dining …Too→
With the possible exception of Come Back Inn, Please & Thank You (800 E. Market St.) may be the only restaurant in the region named after Things Our Mother Told Us. The 78-RPM black recordings that form an integral part of its shtick take us back to our parents’ era, too. But the hip atmosphere of this corner storefront eatery and coffee shop is all 21st century NuLu. Continue reading Panini, please. Thank you.→
Order a sandwich and it comes with a foundational legend, the old story about John Montagu, the Fourth Earl of Sandwich, who invented the portable meal that bears his name so he wouldn’t have to stop playing cards to take his nourishment.
Lil Cheezers’ Caprese Grilled Cheese. PHOTO: M A Buckner
The grilled cheese sandwich, sadly, carries no such memorable tale. While the combination of cheese and bread surely goes back to the Neolithic age, as best I can determine through extensive cookbook and Internet research, the American comfort-food standby evolved in its current form only within the past century. This filling yet low-cost Depression-era dinner was made possible by the happy pairing of two 20th century inventions: sliced bread and processed cheese. Cheese meets bread, hits skillet sizzling with melted butter or margarine, and a few moments later, lunch is on. A can of tomato soup can turn it into a banquet.
To view the grilled cheese sandwich living up to its full potential, however, one must consult the masters of the art at Lil Cheezers, a popular local food truck that added a bricks-and-mortar shop last month in tight but inviting quarters in the midst of the Baxter Avenue nightlife zone. (The Lil Cheezers food truck continues in operation, and a second is coming soon, proprietor and grilled-cheese chef Matt Davis says. The trucks serve limited selections from the sit-down eatery’s menu.)
The venue, a tiny shotgun house-turned-storefront, is clean and bright, the walls boldly painted the colors of Campbell’s tomato soup and Velveeta. I am not kidding about this.
The menu is made of finer stuff than those iconic ingredients, however. It’s all grilled cheese, all of the time, plus munchies, sides and desserts. There are 10 variations on the grilled cheese theme, all available on sourdough or wheatberry bread, ranging in complexity and price from $6 (for the “Plain Jane,” made with your choice of a dozen cheeses) to $8 (for many of the options). All come with a side and a dish of house-made curry ketchup, a thick, spicy red condiment that should make Heinz hang its head in shame.
Admirable creativity went into the bill of fare: The “Fancy Pants” ($8) musters Brie, Granny Smith apple slices, grilled onions and walnuts. The “Buenos Huevos” (“good eggs,” $7) lays down spicy Mexican chorizo sausage and a fried egg on your grilled cheese. Don’t bogart the “Legalize Marinara” ($7), a cross between grilled cheese and a pizza, loaded with pepperoni, mozzarella, sliced tomatoes and garlic. And so it goes, with something for just about everyone, including vegans, who’ll delight in a dairy-free model grilled with vegan cheese. Fountain drinks, Rooibee Red Tea and a selection of bottled beers are available.
Munchies for those late-night moments (or any other time) are mostly $3 for a small portion, $5 for large, include a half-dozen goodies such as sizzling, crisp fries or sweet-potato fries, fried mozzarella strips or house-made potato chips, served with curry ketchup or, for $2 more, a schmear of PBR beer cheese. There’s soup — tomato, of course, with basil added, or a soup of the day, $3 for a cup or $4 for a bowl. Add a dessert designed for the grill — S’mores, an Elvis-style PB and banana or a PB&J (all $4), or a Jamie’s 14K cupcake, keeping alive the spirit of the previous occupant, and you’ve got about everything anybody could ask for.
I was happy with the Caprese ($8), grilled mozzarella with fresh basil, rather pale tomato slices and a touch of sweet balsamic reduction, on my choice of sourdough with house-made chips. The sandwich was great. I would have liked the chips a little crunchier, but I admit I ate them all.
The Highlands Philly ($8) was a splendid sandwich, too, a good ration of thin-sliced roast beef, sautéed peppers and onions and molten cheddar — hold the Cheese Whiz — on wheatberry bread with fries. Soup of the day ($3 small), cucumber-cilantro, was chilled, green and surprisingly spicy.
With iced water, our comfort-food lunch came to $19.08, and the high-tech Square payment system built into an iPhone lets you tap to choose a 15, 20 or 25 percent tip.
You’ve heard of the South Beach diet. You might have tried the low-carb Atkins diet. Wannabe cave persons swear by the Paleo diet, and the wealthy are all about the Hamptons diet. There’s a trendy diet plan for just about everyone who wants to shed a few pounds in this age of high-fructose corn syrup and super-sized meals. And now, let’s put our hands together for the Brownsboro Road diet! Continue reading Brownsboro Diet at SuperChef’s Breakfast and Chicago Gyros→
A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, my father came home one day and announced, “Kids, we’re going to Chicago this weekend, and we’re going to a new kind of restaurant. It has the most amazing salads on a giant buffet, and you can walk right up and take whatever you want.”
It’s getting harder and harder to be a food snob around this town. Years ago, it was easy to complain about all the good things we couldn’t get to eat here. Real Mexican? Ethnic Chinese? Sushi? Thai? Back in the bad old days, Louisvillians who liked to complain about what they couldn’t have were in a target-rich environment.
Nowadays, thankfully, the sounds of whining have ceased, as our city’s lovably evolving restaurant scene has filled in most of the gaps. Sure, there’s still arguably a dearth of spots to enjoy authentic Greek, real kosher-style deli food or some finely nuanced variations on Tex-Mex. Nor have the raw-food or dining in the dark movements made inroads here, but that’s perhaps just as well.
The long-running jeremiads about Louisville’s lack of New York City-style pizza seem to have abated with the arrival of Papalino’s and Coals Artisan Pizza; and Roots has effectively silenced the quality-vegetarian complaints. Now, by and large, whiners are reduced to niche markets. Why can’t we have a Tibetan vegan momo bar, or a place to get Navajo fry bread?
What’s a diner? This question would be easy to answer in New York, New Jersey, and across much of the Northeastern U.S., where diners abound. In Louisville, not so much. There’s a fine line between a diner and a family restaurant.
If it’s located in an old railroad dining car or a building made to look like one, it’s definitely a diner; but this is by no means a necessity, and in fact I can’t think of any railroad-style diners in or around this town. (If you know of one, please let me know.) Continue reading Diner delights at Frontier on Dixie→
Meatloaf at Lynn's, LEO Photo by Ron JasinLynn’s Paradise Café is celebrating its 20th anniversary this year, meaning it has been around for a full generation, and people have been lining up and patiently waiting their turn for brunch through all those years. Think of it — kids who came in with their parents as infants in arms will be able to buy a drink there next year, and the cycle of life goes on.
I’ve been a fan since the very start, even back when its original incarnation was on Frankfort Avenue (in the building that now houses Cubana and that has been home to a number of other memorable eateries including an authentic Jamaican place, a first-rate Korean joint called Little Bit of Seoul, and the short-lived Danielle’s).
Frankly, if you had asked me, I would have guessed that Lynn’s had been around for longer — 25 years, maybe, or 30. It has become that much a landmark on the city’s casual dining scene.
And, of course, the outsize personality Lynn Winter, its proprietor since the beginning, has added a colorful dimension to the place, building a reputation that goes far beyond Louisville’s borders.
This may be attributable as much to public relations as to any exceptional awesomeness. I think I remember where it all started, with an early visit by a well-known national food writer who did his “research” by dropping by The Courier-Journal to ask for tips to iconic local places, was sent to Lynn’s, was amused by its fun mix of diner fare and abundant tchotchkes, and wrote it up. Other national media soon took notice, designated Lynn’s as a “Wacky Louisville Place To Eat,” and it has come to the point where Food Network and its like can hardly come to town without making an obligatory visit.
The tchotchke collection has arguably grown since those days — they’ve added “World of Swirl,” which Lynn’s describes as “a very eclectic retail store.” Yeah. Or an Archie McPhee catalog come to life in a retail setting that’s one part Cracker Barrel and two parts Ron Jon Surf Shop in Cocoa Beach, minus the surfing stuff.
This all fits right in with the sizable restaurant space and bar, which fills Lynn’s ample quarters with a phantasmagoria of bold colors, mismatched tables and chairs, a leafless tree that seems to support the cathedral ceiling; disco balls, blinking colored lights, mannequin legs clad in colorful ’70s-style bell bottoms projecting from the walls, and a bar lined with what must be the winners of Lynn’s popular Ugly Lamp Contest held every year at the Kentucky State Fair.
The menu, best known for ample portions and hearty fare, isn’t nearly as eclectic as the decor, but it satisfies. When I think of Lynn’s, I think first of breakfast, regardless of the time of day, and this option is certainly available.
In fact, Lynn’s is a three-course dining establishment, and dinner options, most priced in the teens, include such Kentucky-flavor bistro fare as Lynn’s pan-fried pecan chicken in Woodford Reserve mustard maple cream sauce, and the Louisville classic Hot Brown. But the range of dishes goes well beyond Kentucky, with a Cajun-accented jambalaya-pasta or Hoppin’ Juan, black bean chili and jasmine rice with a zesty mix of Caribbean and Mexican flavors.
Lunch is available from 11 a.m. to 5 p.m. daily (the dinner menu takes over at 5 p.m.), offering a shorter list of entrees, along with soups, salads and sandwiches. And breakfast, of course, is available anytime Lynn’s is open, featuring about 20 fast-breakers: omelets, scrambles, bacon, eggs, french toast and pancakes, biscuits and gravy, granola and more.
We wandered in at lunchtime and filled up so much on a lunch and a breakfast item that our midday meal sufficed for that day’s dinner, too.
The lunch item, Mom’s Meatloaf ($15.50), featured an oblong block of dense, juicy meatloaf fashioned from Kentucky grass-fed beef. It was topped with a thick dab of spicy marinara sauce with a shot of piquant heat and a distinct dash of dried Italian herb seasoning that it would have been just as good without. Sides chosen from an extensive list were well-fashioned braised cabbage seasoned with aromatic rosemary, and very creamy and rich but surprisingly soupy mashed potatoes.
A breakfast burrito ($11.75) fully satisfied my midday crave. An oversize flour tortilla was rolled around abundant portions of gently spicy black bean chili and tender scrambled eggs, with ramekins of zippy tomato salsa and cooling sour cream on the side. My choice of side, lima beans, was outstanding, tender but still firm limas swimming in a savory veggie broth with a subtle herbal back note. I could have eaten about a pound of those limas.
Chocolate lava cake ($7.25) was a good example of the genre: A round of chocolate about the size of a short cupcake was cakey on the margins, giving way to soft hot fudge in the center. A dollop of whipped cream and two or three scoops of simple, quality vanilla ice cream raised the ante further.
A filling lunch for two, with coffee and an iced tea, was $41.87, plus a $10 tip.
